


Broken Memories

by BiffElderberry



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 06:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21405436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiffElderberry/pseuds/BiffElderberry
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Martin Whitly
Comments: 4
Kudos: 117
Collections: Male Slash Flash Exchange 2019





	Broken Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M J Holyoke (wholeyolk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholeyolk/gifts).

Malcolm was ten. Or was he. Everything was hazy. His head felt heavy. His bed was rocking. 

He had to wake up. 

He fought for consciousness. 

He was not a child, this was a dream it had to be. 

Malcolm thrashed, trying to pull himself out of his dream. He could still see his father's smiling face as his younger self tried to fight off the chloroform. He could feel his father holding him down, feel the pain as he was stretched beyond what his body could handle at that age. 

He opened his eyes to see Martin's smiling face above him. 

Malcolm screwed his eyes shut. It couldn't be. He had to still be dreaming. But it was too vivid, too real. He opened his eyes again. 

His father was still there. 

Malcolm tried to struggle, to push himself up and away, but the heavy cuffs on his wrist hindered his progress. Martin grabbed the chain of the cuffs, pulling them above Malcolm's head.

"Shh," Martin hushed, his soothing tone doing little to calm Malcolm's anxiety. Malcolm couldn't even get enough leverage to spit out his mouthguard, all he could do was whimper, and feel. 

He could feel his father's body pressed against him. He could feel his cock thrusting in and out of his body. He could feel his own desperate arousal, his own aching cock, and little shivers of pleasure every time his father brushed against his prostate. 

Malcolm hadn't touched himself in weeks. That was the excuse he told himself as his father wrapped his hand around his cock, jerking him once, twice, and suddenly Malcolm was falling over the precipice into his orgasm. His toes curled as pleasure raced through his body. 

He was only vaguely aware of Martin coming apart above him, with a choked sigh. 

His father rolled off him, finally letting go of the cuffs around Malcolm's wrists. 

Malcolm immediately sat up, spitting out his mouth guard as he wrestled the cuffs off his hands. He could feel his father's come trickling out of his ass, his own come cooling on his stomach. He knew he had to say something, to react, and yet he felt frozen. 

Suddenly his phone rang.

He almost dropped in his haste to answer it. 

"Martin Whitly escaped," Gil said as soon as Malcolm brought his phone to his ear. 

There was a part of him that knew he should tell Gil. He knew where Martin was after all. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to say anything. The conversation passed in a blur, somehow he agreed to help, to meet up with the rest of the team at Claremont Psychiatric Hospital in less than an hour. 

"So your phone does work?" Martin said conversationally, as soon as Malcolm hung up.

Malcolm rolled out of his bed, pulling back on the pajama pants Martin must have pulled off him in his sleep. He stretched, deciding he would forgo his usual exercise routine for the day. 

"I'm going to go take a shower," he said, barely turning to look at his father over his shoulder. "I expect you won't be here when I get out." 


End file.
